


Hand Holding

by hear_her_speak



Series: 14 Days of Dragon Age Lovers [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hear_her_speak/pseuds/hear_her_speak
Summary: Odette Cousland grieves her family in the wake of inacting her revenge on Rendon Howe.  Zevran isn't great at giving comfort, but he'll try for his amor.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Cousland, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: 14 Days of Dragon Age Lovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622023
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Hand Holding

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of DA Lovers Prompts.
> 
> Odette is my cannon Warden.

Zevran spotted Odette at the edge of camp. She was flinging her knives at a tree, hitting the same mark over and over again until the chink in the trunk was rough and deep. He watched her, quietly, not daring to disturb her. She’d been through much. He understood that better than most. 

Odette was born a Cousland, a noble woman from a well respected family amongst the Fereldeners. Zevran was nothing of the sort, and he knew that was why she liked him. Odette was many admirable things, but she was also hot headed and reckless. In the wake of Rendon Howe’s betrayal, she had sought anything to fill to void left behind by her family. She drank heavily, she swore like a sailor, and she fucked like a whore. Just the way Zevran liked it.

At least, that was how he used to feel. He, too, was reckless. With nothing to live for and nothing to lose, life was one big game to him. He didn’t care for tomorrow. Tomorrow was so awfully far away.

But, despite her fury, her recklessness, Odette was still tender, still kind. She’d called him to her bed, and he’d come willingly every time. At first, there had been no emotion between them, just two people using each other. He wasn’t sure when things started to change. If he thought on it, he could probably pin-point the night. It had been her father’s birthday. They had had their fun, as usual, but she had cut it short. In her grief, she’d broken down. He’d held her as she cried, so unsure of what to do. He’d felt like a child in that moment, and he felt like a child, still.

After that night, he’d taken to staying the whole night after. She’d become his friend. They would fuck, then stay up late into the night, telling stories and keeping each other warm.

That was before he’d realized just how in love with her he was. It’d been several nights since he’d warmed her bed. He didn’t want to anymore, not until he could process exactly what he felt and understand what she wanted in return. He didn’t want to sleep with her if it meant nothing.

They’d talked, some, since he’d stopped sleeping with her, but she hadn’t understood. He could tell she was hurt. Still, there were bigger fish to fry, as it were, than him. They’d just come off a mission where they’d been asked to save Anora, the traitor Logain’s daughter. Rendon Howe, the man who’d murdered Odette’s family, had been there, and she’d finally gotten her revenge. 

She’d plunged her knife into his chest, then crawled on top of him, stabbing down again and again, her blonde hair staining crimson with blood. Hours later, she’d attempted to clean herself, but even now patches of her hair looked pink in the moonlight.

He watched her, for once saying nothing. She threw her knife again, and it struck true. She crossed to the tree to pry it loose and throw it again, only the divot had become too deep, and the knife was stuck fast in the tree. She pulled and pulled, but it would not come loose. 

She screamed in frustration, then punched the tree trunk again and again, her knuckles breaking open with the repeated impact. 

At last he intervened. He grabbed her from behind and dragged her away from the tree. “Stop!” He cried as he pulled her away. “You’ll hurt yourself.” She was slightly taller than him, and in a rage. She kicked free and he dropped her hard before tripping over her feet and sitting hard on his rear. He winced as the pain shot up his tailbone. 

Odette clutched her chest with her bloodied hands. Zevran scooted closer to her. 

“Amor, will you talk to me?”

“I’m so mad!” She wheezed. “I’m so mad!”

“I know,” he said, “you have every right to be.”

“I thought it would feel better,” she said, “but it doesn’t.” 

She held her hands out in front of her, crumbled and curled in on themselves from the repeated blows. They were already beginning to swell. Zevran grabbed them, as lightly as he could. He rubbed around the joints, trying to massage the ache away without touching the open wounds. 

“I am here, mi amor,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She sunk against his chest, her forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. Her cries turned into quiet, choked sobs, then muffled sighs, then sniffles. All the while, he held her hands, massaging her knuckles as gently as he could.

“I miss them,” she said at last. 

He kissed her forehead and brushed her hair out of her face. He hadn’t noticed before, but she wore one earring - a golden, jeweled hoop - the one he’d given her. He smiled. She noticed his smile and looked up at him. “I don’t know what to do, now,” she said. “When all this is over, where do we go?”

He rubbed her cheek. “We?”

She nodded. “We.”


End file.
